Notice to all Provo event planners and marketers: I hate coming outside to my car and finding your lame-o flyer for your lame-o party that I’m not going to attend sitting under my windshield wiper or tucked into my driver’s side window. Why can’t you just be satisfied with putting up big, obnoxious, spray-painted lame-o signs on the side of the road? Seriously.

So here’s my promise to you: I will always litter when I find your crappy fliers on my car. I figure that at some point, the management will get tired of having to clean up these fliers and they’ll actually enforce their no flier policy. It hasn’t worked so far, but I figure that maybe, someday, it’ll pay off. And then you’ll be the one to pay.

And seriously, if I ever catch one of you using TAPE to stick your fliers to my car EVER again, I’m going to go postal in the very real sense of the word. Take that to the bank and smoke it.

That is all.

Tags: Rant, Flyer, Litter, Angry

Welp, failed another Spanish test. And what better way to celebrate my bitterness than with a completely original poem!

Ode to Spanish

How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when sitting in class grasping
For threads of sanity and at least some understanding of what the crap the teacher is talking about.
I hate thee to the level of every
Fiber of my being, from head to miserable toe.
I hate thee completely, as men despise, and strive to squash a big, ugly cockroach.
I hate thee unabashedly, as they feel about a neighbor who doesn’t ever return anything he borrows.
I hate thee with a passion put to use
In all the Spanish classes I’ve ever taken in my life, and with my childhood’s angst (caused by said classes)
I hate thee with a hate that I will never lose
With my lost good mood, - I hate thee with the groans,
Frowns, whining, of all my life! - And if God choose,
I shall but hate thee better after death.

Thank you. Thank you.

Tags: spanish, hate, poem